


Soldier's Sacrament

by still_intrepid



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Air Transport Auxiliary, Comrades in Arms, F/F, Goodbyes, Names, Nyotalia, World War II, hwd female characters event, platonic or romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 08:28:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14256942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_intrepid/pseuds/still_intrepid
Summary: Poland gets ready to fly home.





	Soldier's Sacrament

**Author's Note:**

> A little speedy something equivalent vaguely to my whole [doomed engpol WWII verse](https://archiveofourown.org/series/85864) but nyotalia! Poland stole a plane and flew over to Britain early on and is... either early Air Transport Auxiliary or bending the rules and flying in the squadrons--but you know maybe not that. They enforce rules a bit more this war. England is _various_ things of course: athough she looks young she has a sergeant / warrant officer level role with the women's auxiliaries (…all of them I guess?!) and is definitely something in the SOE too and who knows what else. Anyway the two of them have been... hanging out some, getting to know each other.
> 
> And now, after the central events of the Battle of Britain, Poland feels she needs to get back and get involved in Warsaw.  And she and England.  Talk.  Chattily and avoidantly and intimately.  And say goodbye.
> 
> for hetalia writers discord female character's week on the theme: "Warriors".
> 
> FINALLY SOME NYO!ENGPOL.

_It's a long way to seven thousand,_  
_It's a long way to roam._  
_It's a long way to seven thousand,_  
_On a 50-horsepower Gnome,_  
_With the Fokkers buzzing round you_  
_And the uhlans down below…_

England sings under her breath but not so very quiet, to give Poland warning as she approaches.  It's a song from the _last_ war – a parody of the original lyrics, and the only version Poland knows because England has always been whistling it and she asked.  It's certainly not a conventional choice for their song, but it's jolly and catchy enough.

Poland's voice comes from behind the door. "Come in?"  

"Hi. I came to see you off."

" _GOOD_ ," says Poland so forcefully they both laugh.  "I mean, thanks."

"And you'd expect nothing less," England jokes.  "Are you all set?"

"I literally am.  All packed. I was just having a last look round."

"Do you want to be alone for that?" England offers, with some vague urge to proprietary or chivalry.

"No way!" Poland grins her most dazzling grin.  "Stay."

"Just checking."

Poland nods.  "I'll miss this place. "

*

"Sure about going?"

"Yeah.  I can't stand being here, not… not knowing, not… Anyway, _are you sure_ , what?" A jocular punch on the arm, "It's not like I can just change my mind!  With all this been arranged."

"Fiddlesticks," says England coolly, "plans change all the time last minute in war."

"I have to go."

"I know." (I think you're crazy and it mildly terrifies me to think of what you're going back to but I'll never say something so cowardly.)  "And I mean to say: Thank you, for _telling_ me, for asking, and not just sneaking off with one of our planes as per threats."

"I still woulda if you'da said no."

" _Fizz,_ " England says sternly, exactly as she would to the greenest girl on the base, "you know we need every craft. And an unauthorised take off– we could have shot you down."

Poland isn't the least affected. "Pfff.  Which, which is it?  You wouldn't, anyway."

England huffs.  They know it's true.  That and that Poland most certainly _would_ have just taken the old Hurricane, permission or no. 

*

"Can you imagine being a career soldier?" Poland asks.  They have a few minutes.   _This_ is what England is going to miss most. "Not that there's anything wrong with it, but just imagine like. Deciding you want to be a soldier."

"You were fairly strong on being a Knight, weren't you?" England says mildly.

"Oh yah but like. That's different.  You hardly did any actual fighting."

"Really _?_  I think one _did_ …"

"Nah, not in an army or anything."

"No, no, but… you did have to."

"Yyyeeah but.  The _important_ thing was all the other stuff, the courtly tradition and... playing an instrument!  Puffy clothes and shiny armour, doncha know."

"You and I remember the middle ages very differently."

"Alright," Poland continues undaunted, "being a lancer or a cavalryman later? That was different! That was like. That's what we always do: well then, nation's in danger or… gone… and, hey ho, since I _am_ the nation, better go… fight some battles about that."

"Like conscription then."

"Yeah." Poland nods and shrugs.  "Pretty much.  What was my point?"

"Career soldiers."

"Ohh yeah."

"I don't know," England says thoughtfully, "I mightn't mind so much, if it was an option.  I didn't mind so terribly being a soldier."

It's Poland's turn to gape.  "Really? _When?_ " 

"Oh…"

"You cannot tell me you 'didn't mind' the Great war."

She cannot, indeed.  Not the trenches.  Anyway it was a nurse's uniform she wore then, not an infantryman's, and it was bad. Dangerous work.  Some of the stretcher-bearers out there were the pacifists, brave as any.  Of course it had been hell.  "No."

"When, then?"

"Oh… before."  Insanely, _It's a Long Way To Tipperary_ trips the rhythm in her head into _The Charge of the Light Brigade_ , and that certainly can't be right.

"…And I'm the one with the government issue rose-tinteds?" Poland says wrly, letting her off the hook.  "Hey, maybe you just like being ordered about."

"First of all, how dare you; I was a _pirate_ once, remember; that's my other claim to originating democracy—"

"I think you will find that was –"

"—If you say America—"

"I was going to say, _me._ "

"Yeah, yeah…"  It's a wonderful old argument.  She is going to miss this a lot.

*

Of course, there's a necessary question as to how normal is their experience of soldiery on any level, being neither mortal nor, exactly, men.  Although—any thrill in the sartorial aspect _quickly_ fades, and as to the constant strangeness and the tension, well, yes, you grow to the expect that, and it's not as if bullets differentiate.

"Mmm, but some places had like, all women armies, or, women in the army army," Poland says.

England nods.  "Look at Russia and Lithuania," she says without thinking.  Poland doesn't particularly want to look at those two right now, allies that they are.  "Is that… are we saying that's progress, then?  Surely, if we really progress we'd put all the career soldiers out of a job."

"Heh. A lot of people out of a job."

"It's the old saw.  If it wasn't for the fallen world we wouldn't have…" England waves a hand, trying not to be too morbid, "so many of the beautiful things.  No opportunity to be heroic, or brave, or self-sacrifice…"

"Sacrifice…"

They both think of Celia Forester, who died last week, shot down in her unarmed Typhoon.

"Yeah," England says gruffly.  "I reckon I could do without people sacrificing themselves for a good long while too."

*

"Can I give you a name?"  Poland gabbles.  Very little time to go now.

"A? A codename?  But I'm not the one who's going anywhere."

"No I mean… you all named me Fizz for short, that's like,my name here in England. And."

"You want to give me a Polish name?  I dunno what you can do with Alice and I'm not that keen on it anyway.  Kirk…landczyk?"

"Very nice." A grin at half voltage.  "No.  Sort of, I thought…"

"What?"

"You'll probably hate it.  Just a completely different name, not short for nothing."

"What is it?"

"Rose," Poland mumbles.

"Rose..?"

"Or, Roza, or… whatever, it's a good solid multilingual one you can take anywhere.  And it's your national flower, so maybe you already.."

"No, I like it." 

"Ah… Good. Good, I'm glad".

"Is that…"

"What?"

England grins sheepishly.  "Is that it? I felt like you were going to conduct a ceremony or something, speaking of knights you were going to dub me lady Rose or baptise me and waste your water bottle…"

"Well, you have to kneel because I'm not taller than you."

"I wasn't serious!" 

Poland pushes her down.

And taps her, bending down herself, oddly on either shoulder.  

A hesitation.

Poland crouches down too.

"I name thee… _Rose_ ," she pronounces.  And kisses her forehead.

"That's it," she says, "you're done."

"Wait." England grabs her hand, "I should name you—"

"But I already got Fizz—"

"That's what I mean, can I—" She waves weakly again, "name you that… That from me." Oh it seems too silly now, nostalgic knights of make believe, but—

"Sure, okay."

Both crouching now, England holds both Poland's shoulders for balance.

"Fizz," she says, "I name you."

Poland-Fizz doesn't lower her head and England-Rose doesn't stand up yet, so the brief kiss is lips to lips.

*

"This is… I'm going to go, now, I've got to." Poland waves her wristwatch to prove the point. 

"I'll walk you." 

"Yeah." 

Poland hefts her bag over her shoulder and they walk to the main airstrip in silence, hand in hand. 

"Bye… Rose," she says at last. 

"Goodbye Fizz. Godspeed. God bless." Enough. 

Poland nods her thanks. Then she jogs up and climbs into the waiting plane, whistling.

_It's a long long way to seven thousand  
But it's the safest place I know._

 

**Author's Note:**

> as I say, Po's heading back home. Not quite sure how much either of them know about exact situation and I haven't plugged an exact date on this aaaand also tho I never got to write this part before I theorised in previous engpol ponderings their relationship was growing distant and strained by the time they parted, and we don't see that here…. soo either maybe its earlier, or we just don't have it, or see it in this case. 
> 
> Also ALSO i have ideas for sad later/post war times like "don't call me that anymore England u don't have the right", obviously, and much later after that when they can look back just like… Well, that was a time, that was a moment and it was something only the two of us shared, that's something. but this was long enough already so pls just imagine that stuff for now.
> 
> Celia Forester is the name of a character from Rose Under Fire by Elizabeth Wein, who has died in the first chapter. But that is set late 1944 which is definitely at least a little later if not a lot than this so it's really meant to be the same person, just a reference.  
> 
> And just… sacrament cos… I dunno, I had this silly naming idea way back and it's like – is that moment like a dedication or a marriage, it's certainly like something.
> 
> I heard the song on Voices of the First World War on Radio 4 last week.
> 
> So if England doesn’t really use “Alice” that much – eh, well I guess she’s just “Kirkland” fairly often!


End file.
